


X X X

by Soobiebear



Category: Megadeth, Metallica
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:18:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soobiebear/pseuds/Soobiebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written back in 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	X X X

Jason was giddy. He could count the number of times on one hand since he quit the band that he had seen James. Once he got the phone call that confirmed the anniversary shows the time seemed to fly by. Except for Sunday. Sunday sucked. He watched some football and painted a bit, eventually giving up and picking up his bass again, running through the list of old songs Lars had texted over. He had them down cold and it was only nerves that pushed him to run through the list again. It had been a while since he was on stage playing, but nothing ever changed. An audience was an audience, and he doubted there would be any beer bottles thrown or any bat heads bitten off. Nothing *that* interesting anyway.

What worried him was James. Everyone knew they parted ways on bad terms, and unlike Kirk and Lars, James never opened up the friendship again before the Hall of Fame thing. It was really bizarre, because in everything Jason read James was a changed man. Kinder, patient, having real affection for the people around him instead of just using them to get to his own goals and then tossing them aside. The few phone calls between them had been gruff. James, despite rumors, still didn't utter more than half a sentence at a time and seemed distracted. Ultimately Jason had called Lars and gotten the answers he needed for the show, but while James didn't talk and had hardly treated him like a friend, Lars nattered on for fucking ever and was his instant best buddy again.

Weird.

Weirder still was the fact that Mustaine was calling him for no apparent reason. He could see Geezer calling him, or someone else with a musical discussion, but Mustaine didn't seem to want to talk about music, or anything really. At least with Lars he always had topics to hit, phone calls with Dave were full of awkward pauses and stumbles.

Monday sucked worse than Sunday had. Jason got to the Fillmore early and managed to get his car into the loading docks, carrying his bass and stage clothes into the depths of the venue and through all the dark and twisted corridors. There were hours to kill before stage call, so he set his stuff in what was labelled his dressing room and followed the yellow stripe of tape to catering. Lars and Kirk gave him giant hugs, the Fins got autographs and hugs, and Mustaine kept an eye on him while he chatted with the others in the room. James was suddenly the center of attention and Jason couldn't work his way through the circle of people, so he settled for trying to make eye contact and wave, but James wouldn't even look his way.

Jason circulated and ended up sitting at a table with Ron and Rob. They'd met a few years back in Cleveland and had all gotten along well, trading stories of their time in the band and various bits of gossip. Dave joined the bass players table and sat beside Jason, a plate loaded with food and a pile of napkins quickly appearing in Jason's space. "Got us some stuff to eat."

"Thanks man!" Ron had to reach across the table to grab a strawberry from the plate, popping it into his mouth and eying up the rest of the food. Dave narrowed his eyes but kept his expression as neutral as he could. "Woof!" Dave barked at Ron, and Jason tried to suppress a giggle.

"Hey," Rob interjected, reading Dave's glare and body language loud and clear. "Let's go get our own." Rob hauled the ever clueless Ron away from the table, leaving Jason and Dave alone with the plate of food.

"So, uhh..." Dave stammered. "Come here often?"

Jason stared at Dave incredulously. "Actually I don't. Been working on my painting these days."

Dave nodded and grabbed some berries. "That's cool dude. What kind of painting?"

"Abstract, mostly. Kinda expressionism like de Staël and Dubuffet, I've really be influenced by them." Dave's eyes blanked as Jason talked, clearly not recognizing the artist's names. Jason picked at the fruit as well, popping a grape into his mouth. "Shit that Lars likes, matter of fact," he said with a grin.

"You'll have to show me. I like art. And shit," Dave added, trying to sound interested.

Jason pulled out his phone. He had several photos of his work in the photoalbum that he loved to show off. "I've got tons in my studio, you should come & look through them." He flipped through images. "This one's cool, it looks like the ocean during a storm." Dave leaned in closer than necessary, squinting at the screen.

"'S'cool how it's all angular and blotchy." Jason wasn't sure if he was being bitchy or just trying to say something nice.

"It's a lot of acrylics and pigments and some mixed media." He flipped a few more for Dave to see. "It's therapeutic for me, especially after I lost the use of my right arm."

"Me too, well I had a problem with my arm, but I never turned to painting." Dave pushed a few more images over. "That's cool, I like that one."

Jason knew the painting he stopped on. It was in the corner of the studio. "It's a big one, two foot by four foot or so."

"I like them big." Dave kept flipping through photos, leaving Jason to wonder if he'd heard what he just said. "I've got Thursday morning free, can you open your studio then?"

"Yeah, I don't think I have to be here until 5." Dave was being nice to him, even if it was Dave and there was a lot that needed to be overlooked he was making an effort. After all he heard from James and Kirk over the years, he never pictured Mustaine making any sort of effort or being interested in his artwork.

"Alright, I'll call you so you can grab my number. Gonna wander a bit and bust on Lars some more, if you can think of a prank to pull hit me up."

"Yeah man, I will." Dave snagged a final piece of cantaloupe. "Thanks for the food."

Dave nodded and as he said he would, went over and put Lars in a headlock. Jason ate what was in front of him and wondered what the hell was up with the planet these days. James still avoided him like he had some sort of plague and now Mustaine wants to be his best friend.

A few selected fans were starting to be let in pre-show for a meet and greet and Jason went on public mode. His personal time was over, and as much as he loved the fans it was draining. Eight o'clock and the fans were ushered out back onto the floor and everyone else headed to their dressing rooms or to the balconies to wait their turn. Jason dressed, then picked a balcony to watch the show.

His cue came when they hauled John Dent onstage. Jason left the balcony and went to touch up and collect his bass. He brushed past Mustaine on the way through the backstage are and was pretty sure Mustaine was following him, but wrote it of as paranoia. They guy wasn't playing tonight, so of course he would be wandering around and checking things out. He was only playing on Thursday, which kind of sucked, but helped to relieve a lot of the tension between opposing sides. At least they remembered Jason's phone number and Jason got to play every night. He missed the stage and the lights and the roar of the crowd, but it was something he could live without as long as he had some creative outlet to take the edge off.

Jason stood at the edge of the drapes as the roadie played with his wireless settings. The monitor sounded ok for what he needed, and he watched the Apocalyptica guys jump around their cellos and everyone else move around them. He knuckled them as they came off stage, they still looked slightly starstruck and wanted to linger, but they were pushed on by the invisible forces that run the sidestage.

James, Kirk, and Lars wiped down and had a drink and James started introducing Jason. He actually looked at Jason and smiled for the first time all night. And damn, he looked good. He'd trimmed up in all the right places. James had given everyone else hugs and kisses, so Jason decided to push the issue and get what he wanted. Just a kiss, some small public display of affection, no more than he'd done with everyone else so far. There was a lot of history between them, and Jason wanted his kiss. And a hug. Maybe a quick grope if he could sneak it in, preferably if Lars could see. James had always been attractive, and the years had treated him well. Jason just wanted that little bit of comfort again, to remember what he had for a short while even if he knew he would never have it again with James.

It was finally time to walk on stage, and Jason strode over to center stage to stand next to the Mighty Compere with his shoulders back and spine straight. He was just going to go out there and get his kiss. James turned to look at him, all personable for the crowds and cameras. Jason leaned in to plant a bit wet one on James' lips only to have James push him away with narrowed eyes. The cameras would think he was squinting under the lights and the crowd wouldn't notice, but Jason noticed the firm hand on his chest pushing him away and denying him.

Jason felt like he was being sent to the back of the bus for unknown reasons. James was supposed to be a softie now, in touch with his feelings and not afraid to show them. If only the cameras would catch the beast Jason saw still swimming in those blue eyes. But James smiled and laughed, turning it into an attempt at a joke. Jason was hurt, but he was past the pouting and crying stage, letting the rejection bounce off him. He would get his share of comfort tonight and try James again tomorrow. Fucking prick that he was.

Night two was not much better. James still had something against Jason and wouldn't talk to him. Jason didn't mind much. If James was going to treat him like the old 'Newkid' he was, then he didn't want to deal with James, drunk or not. Jason might not understand it, but at least he'd grown up enough to know that not everyone is capable of healing everything, no matter how many bandages they pile on top of the hurt.

Jason had taken James' virginity and not Lars. Lars wasn't upset by it, but James still held it against Jason twenty-odd years later. So Jason swung his hips a bit more and made sure to step as close to James as he could, just to watch the taller man bristle and squirm. Of course Jason heaped the love on everyone else he could, watching as James ran back to his Lars and chatted privately, forgetfully stroking Lars on the shoulder or arm or kissing him on the temple.

No, not gay at all. Jason still remembers the black eye he'd gotten when he first approached James. Somehow Kirk remained unscathed after all these years. Maybe James had beaten him up before Jason ever got into the band. Maybe it was something about Jason that set James off.

Night three was the same. Rob Halford. Pepper Keenan. Jason wondered when it had become a Broadway show and if they were going to pull out the glitter and feather boas tomorrow night or still pretend to be overmacho and stick to the leather and spikes bondage route. Either way they had things covered.

Day four was just off from the minute Jason woke up. He should have called Dave to cancel his private viewing, but had a real interest in sharing his work so he swept up and readied himself. Dave drove up in his Aston Martin and after peeking out his window a second time, Jason had to go get a closer look at it. Nice was a misnomer, and Dave quickly offered to let Jason drive the V12 beast. If he was man enough, Dave clarified.

Jason gave him a playful shove and they ripped around Walnut Creek a bit, not wanting to get a speeding ticket doing 190mph in a 35 zone. The drive pumped Jason up; he had been a car fan for a while but was much to practical to buy something like that for himself. He was still energized as he led Dave through his studio, actually the house next to his that he had bought out. It was obvious Dave didn't know much about paintings, other than if he liked it or not. Personally he didn't strike Jason as the 'expressive art' type and more like the 'dogs playing poker' type. Jason found the canvas that Dave liked, it was still in the corner where it had been for some time.

"You still like it?" Jason asked.

"You were right, it's fucking huge." Dave eyed the work up and down, thinking. "Wonder if it would fit in my rec room."

"How big's your space? It's not something you can just cram together with other pieces." He wanted Dave to have it if he liked it that much, but didn't want it languishing in some storage unit either.

Dave thought and then held out his arms. "Uh, seven by... ten? Maybe?" He held his arms out up and down.

"I know you said you liked things big," Jason joked, throwing the double entandre back at Dave, who had the stones to flush red and hide under his bangs.

"Yeah, well, I just have good taste." Things were silent again for an odd measure while Jason looked around at all his works. "Why don't you show me what you're working on now?"

That was one of Jason's creative no-no's. The piece had to be finished before anyone could see it, otherwise they wouldn't see what he had in his head. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that," Jason admitted.

"Ah, come on. Not like I'm gonna copy you and sell it for millions. I just like how other people's heads work. Creatively." There was always a clarification with Dave. A 'but'. He was right though, it was a stupid thing to be anxious about. If anyone would understand the process it would be another artist.

Jason led him to another room where he did most of his painting. It had a large window that let in a lot of natural light and made it easier to see subtle differences in colours. The place was a mess; Jason never intended to actually show his comfortable room, only his piles of finished works. He scratched his head at the clumps and lumps of media and pigments from floor to ceiling. "It's not much..." A few canvases stood propped up against the wall in various stages of work. Most had been put off this week while Jason played with his old band. The temptation was there to put some paint on one of them, he knew just where it was to go and his fingers itched to open mix up some pigments and put down what he saw.

Dave must have caught his line of sight and lingering state, because he walked over to the one Jason wanted to work on and studied it. Slowly, Dave pointed to a patch of space left empty. "Doesn't it need something here?"

"I told you it's not done. I was just thinking about that, matter of fact." Jason looked at the clock on his phone. He had a little while before they had to head up to the Fillmore again. "Got a few minutes to hang out?"

Dave nodded his head and backed up a bit from the canvas. Jason set about gathering some supplies and set them on a small table. He eyed up the blank section and grabbed some brown pigment, mixing it with some linseed oil so it was a thick consistency. With his bare hands, Jason grabbed some of the mix and threw it at the canvas. Paint dripped down his arm and splattered his shirt but he was used to it. The cold oil ran in rivulets down his arm leaving little raw umbre trails on his pale skin. Jason grabbed a palette knife and cut into the paint, following the vision in his head.

Dave watched from a few paces back. Jason knew he was there and a small part of him was distracted from his art. Dave was just watching him silently, those hazel eyes taking it all in. Jason added some quartz powder to the mix now, grabbing another palm full and applying it to the painting. His right side was now dotted in brown spots and streaks, the fun of getting dirty still with him from a child.

"I know it's not the most interesting thing in the world," Jason continued moving the paint around with a knife. "It's therapeutic for me anyway."

"No, man, it's..." Dave stumbled over his words again and if Jason would have turned around he would have seen Dave swallow hard. "It's cool. Looks fun."

Jason held the small palette out to him. "Wanna try it?" Dave's eyebrows lifted and his pupils dilated ever so slightly. Jason knew he'd want to try it as soon as he started pulling out the supplies and Dave watched every single move so avidly. "You're gonna get a bit messy, there's no way around it unless you want to use a brush and be a pussy."

Dave took off his shirt and tossed it over the back of a chair. "Gimme some paint." Jason handed over the cup he'd been using with the brown in it, and Dave swirled it around before grabbing some red pigment - Jason's expensive cinnabar - and dumping a small scoop of the fine powder in with the brown. Carefully, Dave poured a small puddle into his hand and pressed it into the canvas. He was much to controlled with it, precisely setting it where he wanted the colour and moving some around with his fingertips. There was no visceral release like Jason got when he threw pigments and ripped into them with a knife. Dave was as clinical and precise as Jason was expressive and uncontrolled.

They both studied Dave's addition, standing together quietly. Dave looked at his right hand, now covered in paste-like paint. He bent down and put his thumbprint on the bottom right corner of the board. "It needs some more red."

"Don't know," Jason mused. "It's a very brown piece." Silence reigned again as both men thought on the work.

"You know what I liked with brown paint?" Jason shook his head. "That video you did a few years back, covering yourself in it." Jason immediately knew which one he was talking about. There had been much titillation among the female fans, even if they didn't get the overall point of the video. Dave drew a wet finger down the middle of his chest. "Doesn't look as good on me."

Dave was still too controlled. Jason filled his palm with paint and smeared it against Dave's chest. "That's how you do it." Dave looked down at his chest again, Jason's thick paint and handprint covering most of his breastbone. He grabbed the cup of paint and sent the paint sailing towards Jason. It hit him and instantly splattered, covering his already paint-soiled clothes.

"Dude!" Jason cried, stripping out of his shirt. Faint brown swipes covered his torso. "What was that for?"

Dave shrugged. "You did it to me."

"But you did it to yourself first!" Jason tried shaking his shirt out, heading over to the closet where he kept his supplies. He grabbed a squeeze bottle filled with tempra paint and got Dave, spraying him with vivid blue.

"Oh, that's it, you're fucking dead kid." Dave grabbed for the bottle but with all of his basketball practice, Jason managed to keep it away from Dave. Blue paint mixed with brown as Jason would taunt Dave and spray him, only to have Dave charge him and wrestle for the bottle. Dave placed his foot behind Jason's and pushed him, following Jason as he fell to the floor and landing on top of him.

Jason had enough wits left to pour the last of the blue paint over Dave's head. With Dave's weight pinning Jason down and Dave suddenly interested in rubbing his skin, Jason tried to back out. "Uhh, Dave, what are you doing?"

Dave rolled his eyes and sneered. "I was trying to fuck you, what are you, stupid?"

Jason took a quick inventory of where he was. Shirtless, on his back under Mustaine, covered in paint and alone. He'd heard enough stories from other musicians over the years, and heard all the rumors about David... and here he was.

"I haven't done this in a while..." Jason moved his hips and tried to get comfortable, pushing Dave around to where he wanted him.

Dave leaned in and nuzzled at Jason's neck, painting Jason's face blue as his hair brushed Jason's chin.

"All the better," he murmured before nibbling. Fingers slid down Jason's chest leaving streaks in the paint, reaching for and unbuttoning his jeans. They were quickly slipped over his hips and bunched at his knees, his underwear following right behind. Dave's paint slicked hand grabbed his cock and started stroking him, getting Jason fully hard. The fretboard was clearly not the only thing Dave was talented with, and soon Jason was lifting up to meet his strokes.

Jason was getting into it when Dave's hand stilled then stopped. Jason lifted his head and watched as Dave undid his own jeans and took them off, wearing nothing underneath. Dave reached down and touched himself, nodding for Jason to do the same. "That oil," Dave motioned to the linseed oil on the table. "That usable?"

"Yeah, probably. Never tried it." Dave grabbed the bottle, pouring some over his fingers and letting it drip all over the floor. He kneeled down at Jason's side and poured more oil in his palm, slicking up Jason's cock.

"Good?"

Jason's head thudded against the slippery wood floor. "Fuck yeah," he breathed. A hand cupped his balls as Dave's other hand worked his shaft. Before he could really get into it, the hands left and Dave straddled him. Long hanks of bluish-red hair had come out from his ponytail and hung in front of his face.

He slowly lowered himself onto Jason, pausing as Jason's cock slipped past the muscle. Once their hips met, Dave leaned forward and stroked Jason's chest. Jason met Dave's eyes and Dave started to move, fucking himself on Jason. Jason watched as Dave's thighs flexed. What was left of his consciousness was fascinated by the now blue haired man, putting one hundred percent of himself into pleasing them. It had been a while since he had such a focused partner who wasn't worried about the dishes or the price of chicken at the market. Dave was here and now and there was no doubt about it.

Dave leaned back, tipping his head towards the ceiling and stretching his neck. He slowed and stilled, grinding to a halt and lifting himself off Jason's hips a final time. "Fuck," he wheezed. Jason worried something had gone wrong, maybe the oil wasn't good as a lubricant...

Dave landed on his elbows and knees at Jason's side, crawling up to plant a rough kiss on his lips. "Fuck me," Dave murmured against his lips. "Fuck me hard."

Jason was stunned. He had just assumed, when the rumors of Dave and David came his way...

"Stop thinking." Dave pushed him and Jason sat up, quickly rounding Dave's ass and giving it a little slap before gripping it in his hand. Dave pushed back into him, wanting more. "Do it!"

Jason pulled Dave's hips closer, knees sliding on pigments and oil. Dave spread his legs, letting Jason crawl between them. Holding himself in one hand and Dave's waist in the other, Jason pushed inside. Mustaine wasn't fucking him anymore, he was fucking Mustaine. Or so it looked. Mustaine apparently wasn't having enough and pushed onto Jason, almost knocking him over backwards. "Fucking HARDER!" He'd learned lessons about people like this, and if previous acquaintances were any indication Dave would eat this shit up.

Jason grabbed what hair was left in the ponytail and pulled. "Fuck you say, bitch?" He snapped his hips and used his hold on Dave's hair to pull Dave back. "Ride you like a fuckin' animal."

Dave moaned underneath him, the few extra pounds shaking with each of Jason's violent thrusts. Jason kept up his brutal assault, moving as quick and as forcefully as he could. The pale skin of Dave's back flushed strawberry and tiny tremors shook his body. Jason let go of his hair and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him into an unnatural and uncomfortable arch. Jason wished he had a mirror. "You gonna come for me? You gonna come on my cock or do I have to suck it out of you?"

Dave reached for his dick, balancing on one arm. Jason pulled his hand away. "Nuh-uh. You come when I say so. Got it?"

Dave mewled and nodded. "Yes," he finally breathed.

Jason slapped his ass. Hard. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, Sir." Dave clenched around him, stealing the breath from his lungs and forcing Jason to thrust harder.

"Oh, you little fucker..." Jason pushed and pulled, rocking into the pliant body, occasionally pinching nipples for added emphasis. "Good, huh?"

"Harder," Dave breathed. Jason wound his arm up and slapped him on the haunches as hard as he could.

"What did I fuckin' tell you?"

"Yess..." Dave tossed his head back and hissed. Jason grabbed a paintbrush from earlier and swatted him with the handle on the behind. Dave jumped and gasped, pushing back into the sting.

Jason stroked the wooden handle over the strawberry red welt he left, slowing his pace. "Fuck if you ain't a good little bitch." He eyed up the mark and twisted his wrist, flicking the handle so it would form a red X in Dave's flesh. Pleased with his mark, Jason tossed the paintbrush aside. A quick look at the clock revealed they'd have to head out soon to make San Francisco by call time. He leaned over Dave's back to nip at his ear again. "Jerk yourself off."

Dave's weight shifted and Jason could feel his muscles shift as Dave grabbed himself. "If you're a good little bitch, next time I'll tie you to the bed and hit you with the tawse." Dave's breathing sped up and Jason was having a difficult time keeping his focus as Dave's ass closed down around him. "Until you're red and begging, desperate for any touch to your cock." Jason wrapped his hand around Dave's and stroked him faster. "Come for me David."

Jason rocked back and forth a few more times, feeling Dave clench and writhe and almost reach his peak. He trailed his tongue down Dave's neck to his shoulder and sunk his teeth in, Dave going stiff and coming underneath him. Jason kept his hand moving on Dave, riding out his orgasm. It only took a few more thrusts into the still body and Jason felt himself snap as well, digging his teeth into clammy, sated flesh.

Carefully Jason lowered them onto their sides for a quick lie down. The floor was cold and slippery underneath them, and Dave reached back and pulled Jason near. "Fuck," Dave sighed into the suddenly quiet room. "I'm fucking covered in paint."

Jason certainly hadn't expected a cuddle, but went with it. The contact was nice as they both caught their breath. "So'm I." Jason traced his fingers lightly over the drying paint. Some of it was still wet where Dave had sweat; other patches were flaking off. "Look like the Scots from Braveheart."

Dave chuckled, grabbing Jason's wandering hand and holding it still over his belly. "Dare you to moon the crowd."

"And end up on YouTube? No thanks."

"Pussy."

Jason stroked the fine hairs on Dave's lower belly. "You do it."

"Don't fucking think so." Dave flopped over on his back, letting Jason explore.

Reaching lower, Jason combed through the blondish curls, keeping his fingertips in contact with skin. "Show them my mark. Let James see the pictures." Jason knew it would irk James, possibly provoke a reaction. Anything was better than the cold shoulder he'd been getting.

"Mmm..." Dave seemed to be thinking it over. "Is there a shower in here?"

Fuck, Jason cursed to himself. Time to get going. "Yeah, c'mon."

They showered together, helping to scrub off the oil-based paints. Dave insisted on driving separately to the Fillmore, wasting the extra gas, but not wanting to be seen riding together. It was cool with Jason - he understood why. Jason watched from the balcony again, waiting for his stage call, watching first his replacement and then Geezer Butler on stage. Dave was floating around, he could feel predatory eyes on him again. Jason wondered if Dave would moon the crowd. Now that he thought about it the display would probably only case the fangirls to buy up extra copies and increase sales. James would only sulk to Lars and he'd get nowhere.

Jason made it through make up and the tuning room without seeing Dave. He played his set, James still ignoring him, but letting Jason take his microphone. It was pre-planned, but he finally managed to get a few words from James on his way off stage. Someone handed him a water, and he searched the wings for Dave while Hugh Tanner played. How someone with hair that colour could disappear completely was beyond him. With no sign of Dave, Jason headed back to the balcony, toweling off and waiting his turn to play again.

Dave appeared onstage, suddenly coming from the darkness. Jason could spot a mile away that something was off. He walked slower, hung his head a bit more, hid behind his hair. He didn't hug the other guys as much as he did in previous nights. Jason watched as he played. He was shuffling. The man did not shuffle, unless it was for a hand of poker. Jason worried. Maybe he'd injured him or Dave had regrets on the drive over.

Jason only got to watch a few songs, then it was back to the tuning room for a quick run through. He knew the song. After twenty years and three nights in a row he should. What worried him was Dave. Everything he had been fed over the years told him that Dave was volatile, unstable. Jason looked back and realized that the off-hand comments had come from James and Kirk, with only a few tidbits from Lars. Given the side of Dave he'd seen recently, he wasn't sure what to believe anymore.

The roadies corralled him to stage right, adjusting his wireless pack. A nervous looking McGovney stood next to him. The stage would be crowded as fuck tonight, Jason hoped he could get to Dave and at least check on him. Dave glanced over his way and their eyes locked, then Jason got really worried. He wasn't sure what the look Dave gave him was about, but it wasn't the typical Mustaine sneer. There wasn't much time for greetings, as everyone rushed the stage and the crowd exploded. He could barely hear the count in on his monitors and hoped he started on beat. Dave hung behind him, just playing and not moving around much. Jason tried to keep an eye on him and not get hit by some swinging dreadlocks. Then Lars fucked up. Jason stepped back, trying to get the rhythm section back on track. Some things never change. It was easier Dave Watching from back by the riser.

The next chorus was Jason's again. Watching Dave stand behind where the stacks used to be thirty years ago irritated Jason. He walked to the microphone, eyes on Dave and challenging him to get up and sing with his best 'don't be a pussy' look. Dave smiled a bit and stood next to him, hot breath in his face as they sang. It was easy to talk like this, no words but music and a few inches between them. They broke off again, falling back up into the stage. The end was near and Lars tried to pull them all together, James riding over it all and dragging it out. They lined up on the edge of the stage, Jason tapped Dave on the arm, managing to fistbump him for getting out of his little funk. The ending rode out a little longer and Jason circled around, coming back to Dave and touching him again. Confetti dropped from the ceiling and Jason could see Dave itching where some of the gummier paint had dried. He worked the crowd as the musicians hugged each other. Ron stood aloof and in the way again, Jason trying to let him follow but he wouldn't take the hint. Jason passed his bass off to a roadie and went back onstage, watching James wrap his arms around Dave and pat him on the back.

He waited, hovering, as Dave and James talked, deciding to give them bunny ears as they posed for the fans. They still wouldn't leave, so Jason circled around to a front row photographer and posed a bit. Dave left the stage with Jason hot on his heels. Towels and waters were immediately in their hands as everyone clustered around celebrating. He found Dave and wrapped his arms around him, patting him on the back much like James had just done. Dave's arms hung on, no macho back patting as he took from and gave Jason the comfort they were both looking for.

"Good show," Jason said into a curtain of red hair.

Dave pulled back enough to look Jason in the face. "Not so bad yourself today, NewKid," he said with a wink.

Jason let him go for propriety's sake. "Wanna hang out? Place around the corner with a good wine list."

Dave scratched at the dried paint again. "Yeah, sure."


End file.
